FOILED
ERNST VON GOBENDORFF was up betimes. A forty or fifty miles' railway
journey was before him. Until he was within a short distance of
Poldene Station he did not consider it prudent to assume his
disguise.
He knew that the great Poldene Bridge was closely guarded both by
land and water. To attempt to approach would be courting suspicion,
even if he appeared in a military officer's uniform. He knew that he
could board a "Service" train at Poldene, but here again the
difficulty arose as to how he could obtain the privacy necessary for
the ultimate attainment of his designs.
The spy alighted at a small station midway between the town and the
bridge. He had had a first-class carriage to himself, and the fact
that he had entered it as a well-groomed civilian and had left the
train dressed in the uniform of a major of the Intelligence Staff
passed unnoticed.
His next step was to make for an isolated cottage standing on high
ground overlooking the river. Three small boys, sauntering along the
leafy lane, turned and gazed at the khaki-clad man. It was mere
curiosity. They would have stared at any stranger, whether in
uniform or otherwise, but von Gobendorff's lowering brows betokened
intense annoyance. It meant that he had to walk past his immediate
objective and return when the youngsters were at a safe distance.
A little farther down the lane a middle-aged man in worn fustian
clothes was ambling along. Seeing the supposed major approach the
fellow stopped, and, pulling out a clasp knife, began to cut hazel
switches from the hedge. By this time von Gobendorff was within ten
paces of him, and the man resumed his walk with three wands in his
hand.
Von Gobendorff seemingly paid little or no attention, but, shifting
his suit-case from his right hand to his left, he struck his heel
lightly with his malacca cane--thrice, in a most casual way.
"Have you been to the cottage, Herr von Gobendorff?" asked the man
in German. "I had to go down to the river, but I hoped to be back
before you arrived."
"It matters little," replied the spy. "Have you arranged about a
dog?"
"A huge beast," was the reply. "Terrifying in appearance, but he's
muzzled and chained."
"It is well," rejoined von Gobendorff. "Now listen carefully. I
don't want this business bungled. You say you can get across to the
signal-post without being seen from the signal-box, and you know
what to do?"
"Yes," was the reply. "All that is necessary is to remove a bolt
from the rod, and the signal-arm, being weighted, will rise to the
danger position."
"Quite so," agreed von Gobendorff; "but the point is this: can you
lower the arm again? The train must be delayed for not longer than
five minutes--less if possible. I will place the explosive between
the rails. It has a six-minute fuse, so there is little margin. I
don't want to be blown up with a crowd of Englishmen."
"I understand," replied the other. "But will six minutes be enough?"
"Enough and no more," rejoined the spy. "The moment the down train
crosses the bridge and gains the double-track the American troop
train, which will have to wait for it, will start again. Once over
the bridge it will not matter whether the engine is over the point
of detonation, for the whole structure will collapse and the train
with it. Now, fetch me the dog."
The huge St. Bernard showed neither enthusiasm nor mistrust at the
sight of its new master. It suffered itself to be taken away on the
lead, and, as previously related, the pseudo major and his canine
companion contrived to board the guard's van of the Service down
train to Trecurnow.
In spite of his steady nerves von Gobendorff's pulse quickened as
the train came to a standstill on the centre of the lofty bridge. As
he expected, the guard's attention was directed towards the signal
set at danger. What was better still, the man alighted and walked
along the permanent way.
The spy waited until he saw the guard returning. Five minutes had
almost elapsed, but the signal had not dropped. Von Gobendorff was
confronted by two alternatives: either to set the fuse in action and
drop the explosive under the carriage before the guard returned, or
else wait until the line was reported clear. He chose the former,
relying implicitly upon his assistant's ability to lower the
signal-arm.
Therein he made a grievous error, for the bolt, in being released
from the operating rods of the signal, took it into its head to jerk
itself out of the man's grasp, rolling down the embankment and
choosing a secure retreat under the roots of a thick thorn-bush. The
wrench which von Gobendorff's accomplice employed was too massive to
be used as a temporary bolt, and in the absence of anything suitable
it was impossible to pull down the arm to the safety position. The
train beginning to move towards the fellow's scene of action warned
him that it was unhealthy to linger longer, so taking to his heels
he bolted.
Meanwhile the spy cautiously lowered the explosive out of the
window, intending to swing it under the carriage, but forgetting
that the dog's chain was padlocked round his own wrist von
Gobendorff was unpleasantly surprised when the St. Bernard shook his
massive head. The sudden jolt had the result of jerking the cord out
of the spy's hand, and the leather case dropped upon the permanent
way in full view of the occupants of the two adjoining carriages.
Von Gobendorff made no effort to retrieve his dangerous property. It
was high time that he put a safe distance between him and the
explosive, for the fuse had now been active for two minutes and the
signal-arm still remained at danger.
Uttering maledictions upon himself for not having unlocked the dog's
chain from his wrist the spy drew the key from his pocket. To his
dismay the key failed to open the padlock, while an attempt to
unfasten the rusty spring-hook that fastened the chain to the
animal's collar was equally fruitless.
Once again the Teutonic love of detail had over-reached itself. Von
Gobendorff had arranged everything to the minutest point, but there
was a slight flaw in the operations and it led to failure.
Followed by the St. Bernard the spy leapt from the van and, taking
advantage of the fact that the attention of the spectators at the
window was centred upon the still obstinately fixed signal, was soon
lost in the drifting mist that, fortunately for him, was rising over
the eastern end of the bridge.
Knowing that there was a sentry posted on the embankment von
Gobendorff advanced boldly, trusting to his disguise to enable him
to pass. In this he was quite successful, for the man, on seeing the
"Brass Hat" approach, stood still to the salute, the pseudo major
returning the compliment in correct military style.
Once clear of the sentry von Gobendorff scrambled down the
embankment and made towards the well-wooded country at high speed.
With luck he hoped to cover half a mile before the expected
explosion occurred; even then his margin of safety was perilously
small.
Suddenly the deep boom of a heavy explosion rent the air.
Instinctively the spy stopped and listened intently; but no crash of
falling girders and masonry, nor the cries of hundreds of men
hurtling to their doom, followed the initial roar.
Conscious of failure von Gobendorff broke into a string of oaths as
he resumed his flight. The dog was beginning to become a hindrance,
for hitherto it had followed well; but now it showed a strong
disinclination to be urged at a rapid pace at the end of a chain.
Pulling out a revolver the spy eyed the animal with the intention of
trusting to a bullet to sever the recalcitrant chain. At the sight
of the weapon the St. Bernard's misgivings were roused, for with a
deep growl the powerful brute backed, tugging viciously at the
restraining links. Too late the spy thought of unbuckling the
massive metal collar, for a warning growl from the muzzled brute let
him know very effectively that the St. Bernard's motto was "Noli me
tangere." One of the links snapped, and the dog sat down on its
haunches while the spy retreated for several feet before subsiding
upon the gnarled, and exposed root of a large tree.
Regaining his feet von Gobendorff took to his heels, wrapping the
severed portion of the padlocked chain round his wrist as he ran.
Before he had gone very far the St. Bernard came bounding to his
side.
"Go back, you brute!" exclaimed the spy apprehensively. "Go home!"
Somewhat to his surprise the animal turned tail and ambled off. Just
then came the sound of voices. Already his pursuers were on his
trail.
Then the unpleasant thought occurred to him that perhaps the dog
might be pressed into the service of the men on his track. He wished
that he had risked the sound of a revolver shot and had put a bullet
through the creature's brain. He had no love for man's best friend;
in his youth he had been systematically cruel to animals, and the
instinct still lingered. At the best he regarded a dog simply as a
slave--an instrument: When no longer of use to him he would not have
the slightest compunction in taking its life. It was only fear of
discovery that stayed his hand.
Von Gobendorff was a fair athlete. He was especially good at
long-distance running, and as he ran with his elbows pressed to his
sides his footsteps made hardly any noise. He recognised the fact
that it was necessary to avoid stepping on the dried twigs that lay
athwart the path or to plunge recklessly through the brushwood.
Presently he came to a fairly wide brook. He hailed the sight with
delight. For one thing the water would slake his thirst; for another
he could throw the dog off the scent (supposing the animal turned
against its temporary master) by wading up-stream.
Before he had waded ten yards he heard sounds of his pursuers coming
straight ahead as well as on his left. It was an ominous sign, for
they had evidently made their way through the wood on a broad front,
and some had out-distanced the rest.
Ahead was a thick clump of willows, the thickly leafed branches
trailing in the limpid water. For this cover the spy made, bending
low to avoid the trailing boughs. Suddenly he stepped into a deep
hole. Immersed to his neck he regained his footing; steadying
himself against the force of the stream by grasping a bough.
{Illustration: "A COUPLE OF BLUEJACKETS BURST THROUGH THE
UNDERGROWTH." [_p._ 53.}
Nearer and nearer came the sound of his pursuers' footsteps, till a
couple of bluejackets burst through the undergrowth and pulled up on
the bank within twenty feet of the fugitive.
"S'elp me!" exclaimed one, pointing straight in the direction of the
immersed spy. "If that ain't just the bloomin' place for that cove
to hide. Come on, mate, let's see what's doin'."